IT'S GRINNING
Genre: Horror 1972 His name is Ron. Ron Bennett. He wrote books. He has a wife Well, had a wife after she died in a brutal, and violent car crash. That fuckin' asshole, drunk & stupid. "Great combination!"''With sarcasm of course. This is recent. Only 5 months ago. Ever since, he has been experiencing writer's block. A situation in which an author or common writer, goes through a temporary block of creativity. So, he just sits there. Staring at his Typewriter. But...''it's staring back Not just staring, but, GRINNING. The''type''of typewriter it was, and the point of view he had, affected this the most. Often he found himself glare at it. Like this typewriter actually can react to him with emotion. But he doesn't think about it that way. What he thinks... Is that this typewriter was his friend, a good friend, BEST friend. But after the death of his wife, the typewriter didn't care, so it would grin, and grin and grin... Ron fucking hated this. While he is sitting there was depressed, his own friend is just grinning the whole time. 8:00 AM, December 12th. “This time, THIS TIME, I'll write something! I just know it” - And that he did. He sat down, inhaled and exhaled slowly – then began writing. Around the corner... She was there... She was grin-'' “FUCKING!- Stop fucking GRINNING AT ME!!!” He yelled, picked up the typewriter, and threw at the wall. It's parts fell all over the room. Cleaning it up was just... hell - The ink had spilled on his wooden floor. “Oh, just fucking perfect!” He yelled to himself. 1:26 AM, December 13th ''At the store Ron purchases a new typewriter, unfortunetly, they only one typewriter available for purchase. It looked exactly the same. 3:37 AM, December 13th And here we are again. Just sitting there. Staring at...it.-'' He began typing. ''Kill. Me. He took the paper out of the typewriter, crumpled it up and threw in the garbage. “I need inspiration...” he thought. He got in his car and went into town. He decided to go to the theater. He watched “Close encounters of third kind” After the movie. “6/10 eh” He murmured to himself. He's always been a harsh critic. But nonetheless, he got nothing out of the film. Everyday, he gets more depressed. He tries to tell himself to not mourn over her death. But he just... can't help it. He loved her. Very, very much. 8:21 AM, December 15th It's Grinning... It's Grinning... It's Grinning... It's Grinning... It's Grinning... “STOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP...”- He jammed the type keys as hard as he could, almost as if he is trying to inflict pain on...a typewriter. Betrayal, that's what he is feeling, his friend is betraying him. And Ron does not like it. December 16th -Same Thing December 17th -Same Thing December 18th -Same Thing December 19th -Same Thing December 20th -Same Thing “THE DAYS JUST PASS BY, LIKE THEY'RE NOTHING. AND THAT'S WHAT THEY ARE. NOTHING. YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE IS NOTHING? YOUR. FUCKING. GRIN.” He typed. December 21st 8:00 AM “STOPSTOPSTOP” 9:00 AM “STOPSTOPSTOP” 10:00 AM “STOPSTOPSTOP” 11:00 AM 12:00 AM 1:00 AM 2:00 AM 3:00 PM... etc.. 9:00 PM... The 21st of December. Ron got up, went over to his closet and opened the door. He grabbed his double-barrel shot-gun, and sat on his bed. Putting the barrel to his mouth. He pulls the trigger. As he collapsed to the hard floor, the typewriter sits there on his desk...GRINNING.